


The Curl Sticking Out

by deluxelarry



Category: Larry - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band), lourry - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sad, Sadness, lots of fluff, ocd!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluxelarry/pseuds/deluxelarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And how can this be a mistake if I don’t have to wash my hands after I touch him?</p><p>Or the one where Louis has OCD and Harry is the first thing he allows himself to get attached to</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curl Sticking Out

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by “OCD” by Neil Hilborn, a poetry session from Button Poetry.
> 
> I planned this to be 500 words, whoops
> 
> This only took an hour to write and edit but it means a lot to me and i'm proud
> 
> (i do not own the boys, all fiction, and credit for inspiration goes to Neil)

When you have obsessive-compulsive disorder, you don’t get many quiet moments. My life is a series of making sure the door is locked, or if the bristles of my toothbrush are facing my way. Or how I have to repeat myself too many times because it doesn’t sound perfect the first. It’s an endless parade of ticks going off in my head. Even when I’m laying in bed or trying to sleep, all I can think about is if I washed the dishes correctly, even though I washed them 3 times before I put them in the dishwasher, or I just have to make sure the lights are closed properly, and checking one more time, on and off and on and off and on and off. The lights, the lights, the lights.

When I first saw Harry, all the ticking noises stopped and images of everything I did in the past 30 seconds refreshed. All I could think about how beautiful he was and how that one curl was sticking out, the curl was sticking out, the curl was sticking out. I knew I had to talk to him and all I could think about was slipping my hand in his and for a moment I forgot about all the germs that would’ve been on my hand if I did. 

After blowing my coffee 6 times because the steam from it was just too much and didn't look right, I remember asking him out in the bakery about 17 times in a minute. He said yes after the 5th one but the first 16 didn’t sound perfect enough. After he nervously laughed, I kept replaying his smile in my head. The curve of his lips, the curve of his lips, the curve of his lips.

On the first date, I spent more time placing the napkin on my lap because it didn’t seem to set right and asking for a new glass because all of them had a tiny stain on them somewhere then actually fucking talking to him, or eating.

But he loved it. He said he loved how everything had to be perfect and how I had to say hi to him at least 5 times, or 3 times if it was Saturday. He loved how I took forever holding his hand because our fingers had to be a specific way and our hands had to be positioned perfectly. He loved how I washed my clothes by color and fabric. He loved that I took forever walking him home because there are tons of cracks on the sidewalks.

And when we first kissed, I just kept kissing him over and over because none of them felt right enough. He loved it.

When he moved in, he said he felt safe because I definitely locked the door over and over again before getting into bed. He felt clean because I most definitely washed the bathtub at least 5 times before letting him shower.

He respected my space and how I needed the duvet to be perfectly covering the bed equally on both sides when I came home from work.

When I first told him I loved him, I had to repeat it 6 times because even though he said it back after the first, it just didn’t sound perfect enough.

When he told me he loved me, his top lip would curl and his eyes would shine too bright. 

God, when he talked, when he talked, when he talked, when he talked, when he- you could see his soul and how much he meant what he saying and you can spend hours listening to him, but not really because I would’ve been too busy checking the food on the stove 18 times. But he made me want to sit and listen to him forever. 

Sometimes at night, he would watch me close the closet door, open close, open close, open close, open close, because I couldn’t sleep with it open and it had to be shut a specific way.

He loved it all.

*

Then, some mornings when I started kissing him goodbye, he would just push me away, saying I was making him late for work. 

Sometimes when I trusted him to do the laundry, he would mix everything together because he said we were wasting too much laundry detergent. 

When he told me he loved me after I said it 7 times as usual, he would say it back with his top lip straight and eyes looking at the ground. 

Last week, he started sleeping at his friend’s house. He said I was taking too much of his time, that I was too obsessive, that he shouldn’t have let me get so attached to him, that this was all a mistake.

But how could this be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touched him? That I don’t have to remove the eye lash from his cheek, or fix the stray curl from his head because he’s perfect already.

This love is not a mistake.

I just can’t let him go. How can I find someone new when all I think about is him and wanting to lie in bed with him instead of repeating closing the light?

Usually, I obsess over things endlessly and he was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on, without caring about germs sinking into my skin or being crushed by bugs.

He was the only thing I ever got attached to and didn’t care if it was perfect.

All I think about is him and how he perfectly removed his shirt, starting from the hem on the bottom and straightly removing it upwards, or how he goes to the supermarket and goes down every aisle from beginning to end to make sure he doesn’t forget anything. Or how he holds himself straight while shaving his face, shaving his face, shaving his face.

Now, all I think about is who is now kissing him to the point where I can’t breathe. How he probably only kisses Harry once, he doesn’t care if its perfect or not. And he probably doesn’t repeatedly tie Harry’s shoes, not caring if both loops are equal.

I just miss him, so much. 

I now leave the door unlocked. I leave the lights on.

Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, i have never read an ocd!louis fic and idk i was inspired, even though i watched the poetry slam months ago.
> 
> tumblr - punkhrry.tumblr.com
> 
> talk to me even though im a loser


End file.
